Unexplained Endings
by scriiibble
Summary: Teresa Lisbon's death had been a complete and utter lie and Patrick Jane knew it. He had overcome sixteen months without her, run-ins with the infamous Marcus Pike, insufficient resources and a lack of people who believed in his ideas of her non-death; he wasn't going to give up on her now.
1. Chapter 1

_A/N~ Cannon up until 6x22 (Blue Bird), explores what might have happened if Lisbon went to DC with Pike instead of staying in DC with Jane. Hope you enjoy it! The next chapter should be up in a couple of days._

Unexplained Endings

Chapter One~

 _September 2015_

Teresa Lisbon's death had been a complete and utter lie and Patrick Jane knew it.

Of course, it had been a long and tedious road, beginning with her death and leading to Jane sitting outside her apartment building. Jane had almost fallen apart on numerous occasions, with leads that lead him nowhere and opposition at every corner he met; he'd lost his job because the FBI thought he was "unstable". Not that he could counter that, when he had been completely focused on proving that a dead woman, who had been buried and mourned, was actually still alive.

It was late by the time Jane reached the apartment building; the last rays of the sun were just disappearing below the sky line, leaving a lingering amber glow illuminating the town. He hadn't expected to find her here; Mexico had been his first guess, or maybe Canada at a push, but Argentina had surprised him. He hadn't had long to ponder her country choices though; the moment he'd heard cryptic word of her current place of residence, he had caught the next plane out.

Jane killed the engine and sat up in the car chair, not taking his eyes off of the apartments. He watched the trickle of people wander in and out of the building; small children with thick overcoats and gloves, men with long strides and briefcases. He had overcome sixteen months without her, run-ins with the infamous Marcus Pike, insufficient resources and a lack of people who believed in his ideas of her non-death; a little waiting for her to return wasn't going to kill him.

* * *

 _16 months previously~_

 _May 18th 2014_

"Hey." Teresa Lisbon said as she closed the TSA holding room door behind her.

Patrick Jane looked up at her entrance, a smile creeping across his face as he watched her sit down gingerly in the plastic chair across the table. "Hi".

She bit her lip and gently touched the cross at her throat, expression anxious and torn. She didn't think she could do this, she couldn't reject the very person she had been pining for the last seven years. She couldn't reject him. Images of those years tumbled through her mind; Jane flashing his charming smile, Jane making her origami frogs to make up with her. Then came Jane refusing to let her in when he was in Red John mode, Jane uprooting and fleeing to Vegas with elaborate plans and no word as to whether he was okay, Jane killing Red John and moving to South America before shooting headlong back into her life and dictating to her that she should move to Texas. Then came images of Marcus Pike; he was charming and sweet, although not in the breathtaking way Patrick was, but ultimately safe. She would never have to spend weeks at home wondering if he was ever coming back, wouldn't have her heart shattered at least twice a year.

She took a fortifying breath and began, "Jane-"

"You didn't go to DC" he interrupted, his eyes locking with hers with an unwavering intensity that she knew meant he was analysing her in some way. She cleared her throat and looked away.

"No. I didn't."

He could feel the guilt emanating from her as she looked back up to catch his gaze once again. "You are going though, aren't you?" he called her out. She didn't answer, which was all he needed to confirm it. "I knew it."

She didn't know what to say other than, "I'm sorry."

"Why did you get off that plane, Lisbon? I mean, you'll be keeping Pike waiting," he said bitterly, all traces of happiness to see her replaced.

"Don't be this way."

"What way?" he said, well aware that he was being unfair.

"You know what I mean, Jane. Don't act like the injured party." She sat forward in her chair and put her palm against the cold table, fury rising in her, but exhaustion not allowing her voice to rise.

"I'm not."

"Yes you are. And damn-it, you have no right to. I'm the one who wasted half my life away waiting for you and the one time I attempt to move on you want me." She swept a hand over her face and studied him for a moment before continuing. "It's like... It's like I'm a God-damned toy that you want because some other kid is playing with it."

Jane squeezed his eyes shut. "That's not true," he said, voice wavering. "I felt the same way about you."

"Don't pretend to understand," she snapped.

"Why are you here, Lisbon?" Jane asked after a moment. He was watching her intently, analysing her movements and expressions. He could tell she was angry, but there was a type of wanting buried underneath, the type that gave him hope that this might not be goodbye. Lisbon had always put up with his crap, it was part of the reason why they had become so close over the years, and the idea that she might be irreparably finished with him was beyond his comprehension. He was Patrick Jane, mastermind of manipulation, and the possibilitythat he had lost her after all his efforts to keep her safe and with him was something of a ludicrous concept to him. Looking at her now, however, he could see the tired lines of being pushed too far etched on her face, he could see the toll of years working with him had had on her. The realisation that he had pushed her one step too far hit him like a ton of bricks, like a steam train. He felt breathless and empty and irretrievably desperate to show her that he adored her, that he needed her, that she had been his salvation and without her, he would not be able to go on.

She answered after a long silence, "I just didn't want to leave it that way."

"Because this is so much better?" He exclaimed. He stood up with a gust of passionate acrimony, leaning forwards with his hands on the table to take weight off his bad ankle. He hovered there for a moment, looking across the table and searching her face for a hint of understanding. A heartbeat later he moved to her side and grabbed her hand, pulling her to stand with him. "Lisbon..." he touched her face delicately, looking up at her underneath his eyelashes and then returning his hand to hers, grasping it firmly between both of his. "Lisbon, please think about this. This is our chance, we owe it to ourselves- we owe it to each other. Please, give me this chance and I will spend the rest of my time on this earth adoring you and loving you. Can you really say that you'll be happy in DC with Pike?" Jane could count on one hand the times he had bared himself to another human being in this way, one being when he proposed to Angela, another when Charlotte was born, then on the plane a mere few hours ago and in that moment, asking her to stay with him. He could feel the adrenaline rushing through his veins; all of his senses were heightened.

"Jane, stop it."

"No!" He pushed forwards to kiss her cheeks gently, finally pecking her lips and smoothing her hair back from her face. Her eyes fluttered closed and she let out a trembling breath. She wavered slightly, letting him kiss her, savouring the moment with a bitter-sweet hunger. She could give in easily. She could say to hell with it all and spend the rest of her days engulfed in Jane; Jane with his crazy schemes, beautiful eyes and maddeningly sweet curls. But then again, it wouldn't be like that. Jane would let her down again, he would leave her again. She had barely survived when Jane had left the past times, but if she stayed and allowed herself to fall deeper in love with him, she would not come out the other side. There could be nothing after loving and losing Patrick Jane, and she would lose him. "Listen to me-" he began, his lips leaving her face and his voice pulling her back into sense. She pushed him away and stood on her feet, putting a few steps between them, the feel of his lips still leaving her tingling.

"It's too late, Jane." She said, eyes sad, but her mind made up. He didn't say anything more as she turned and walked out of the TSA holding room, leaving him kneeling on the floor, the physical pain of his ankle fair eclipsed by the dawning realisation that this was likely the last time he would see her.

* * *

 _A huge thank you to Emma (Emma95) for betaing this for me, she has helped an amazing amount!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Thank you so much for the feedback! Here's the next chapter..._

 _And, again, thank you so much to Emma for beta reading! :)_

Chapter Two~

 _November 2014_

Jane's small air-stream was cramped at the best of times, but filled with three extra people pulled the definition to a new level.

"I'm sorry, Jane," Grace said, tears slipping freely down her face. Wayne Rigsby sat by her side, holding her hand with his expression sombre, eyes glistening also. Kimball Cho stood a little behind them, standing in the army position; upright with his hands behind his back.

"It happened quickly," Rigsby followed up. "From the coroner's report... Sh-shot in the line of duty." He spoke clumsily, aware of the mother of his child struggling to fight away tears beside him. "I thought you might want to know" One tear slipped free and he wiped at it angrily.

"What difference does that make?" Cho said confrontationally, stepping forwards and drawing the couple's attention to him. His normally stoic face bore an angry expression and his arms slipped from behind his back to ball into fists.

"Cho..." Grace said gently, turning her sad eyes onto her former team member for a moment. He paused for a moment and nodded silently and backed down, abruptly flinging the air-stream door open and leaving. Wayne exchanged glances with his wife and with a look of understanding from her, he followed Cho outside.

Grace turned her attention back to Jane, who meanwhile had not said a word. His teacup lay forgotten on the table, and he had leaned forwards to hold his head in his hands, eyes closed. Grace reached to touch his shoulder gently and he sat up abruptly, eyes furious. "Just go Grace," he said and locked eyes with her in a glare that would make someone back away-but not Grace. She knew-they all knew-that the death of their old Boss would hit Jane the hardest, no matter the pain she, Rigsby and Cho felt. The first thing Rigsby had asked when Cho had informed him was whether Jane knew as well, and she had felt both relief and pain, when his answer had been negative. They had all agreed with Abbot that it would be better if they told Jane (who had seemingly abandoned his duties at the FBI and was hiding away in his air-stream) together. She had anticipated that it would be hard, but she had also expected some kind of emotion from him, not the emptiness he had displayed. Ever since that day he had chased after Lisbon's plane, Grace had consciously realised that something had shifted, and it wasn't hard for one to guess that something of romantic nature had taken place between them. Up to when Lisbon had uprooted and moved to DC with Pike six months ago, Jane had had no contact with Lisbon in the slightest, despite his invitation to the upcoming wedding. Since her departure, he had broken down and retreated from the rest of the team, who had been at one point his closest family. Grace was surprised at his tears now as she had only ever seen him cry once; in the interrogation room after he had spoken to Kristina Fry, and she had gently closed the door to give him some privacy.

Softly, she said, "Jane, we miss her too." When he didn't respond she touched his arm gently-reassuringly-before following her husband outside.

* * *

Jane didn't speak to anyone for two days; he simply spent his time in his airstream thinking of her.

Lisbon had plagued his mind for the past six months, but now-now it was concentrated and pure pain; the idea that she had been miles away living with Pike had killed him, but her death was like turning off a light. She was unreachable and unattainable on a completely different scale.

On the third day he finally emerged from the airstream, bags under his eyes, and an overgrown beard, and caught the next flight to DC. Echoes of the past plagued him, and there was a part of him that still foolishly hoped that she could be alive somewhere. The idea that she could still be out there tugged at him and didn't allow him to let go of his memories-scattered freckles, looks of amusement hidden by her need to discipline him as his boss, her sad eyes as she told him she was going to DC. He needed to see her body; maybe that would do the trick. He believed he owed it to her, to investigate the circumstances that revolved her death- if there were any clues about her killer he had the best bet of discovering them. He also needed to do this for himself; he needed proof of her death to stop the growing, and increasingly hard to quash, thoughts that there was some kind of mistake. It didn't matter what happened after that; suddenly this had become the most important thing in his life (as she used to be the most important person in his life) and he had a feeling it would be the last thing he would do.

He had been told that Pike had identified her-but he barely knew Lisbon, and had the intelligence of one of his origami frogs. Jane would not take his word on something as important as the death of Teresa Lisbon. Lisbon's family and friends had flocked to DC, which Jane hated-why should the place she had lived with Pike be classed as her home? Jane wasn't happy to find that only Pike was in her apartment still; he had partly hoped he would be able to go about his business without ever having to see the man who had stolen Lisbon away-especially as he couldn't help but wonder whether she'd still be alive, had she stayed in Austin with him.

Pike, in all honesty, looked just as bad as Jane. He, too, had an overgrown beard and tired lines around his eyes that only sleepless nights could achieve. His rumpled t-shirt was stained and partly unbuttoned, and his trousers were creased beyond the wonders of an iron could repair. He looked sincerely surprised to see Jane, but after his initial shock, opened the door wider to let him into the small porch.

"Jane. What are you doing here?" His voice was raw, Jane thought from emotion, but the look of contempt in his eyes almost matched Jane's; partly concealed and controlled hatred.

Jane stepped into the doorway, into the shadows of the porch. He could see the rest of the house behind Pike; a small kitchen painted in whites and creams lead into a living room with the same colouring, a staircase leading upstairs to where Jane couldn't see, (but he would bet it was painted drab colours). Jane returned his eyes to Pike, studying him carefully, his face emotionless, eyes cold. He chose to ignore Pike's question and the tension between the pair grew as the silence stretched. Eventually Jane spoke, "Did you identify her body?"

Pike flinched at Jane's tone, but held his head high, feeling like his role had been one of up-most importance; he had been the next-of-kin enrolled with the task. "Yes," he said firmly.

Jane noted his self-important attitude and it irked him. "Are you sure it was her? I mean, mistakes _are_ made."

"Yes! I think I am capable of identifying my own wife," he spoke furiously, but his rage was controlled.

"Really?"

"What are you implying?" Pike surged, hands balling into fists.

Jane knew what Lisbon would say about his attitude. She would think he was being petty and childish, but he put that aside and spoke anyway. He deliberately spoke to provoke, "I mean that I wouldn't expect you to know your own wife, considering you didn't take care of her".

Pike would usually not consider himself a violent man; his mother had raised him to be respectful, even in the face of disagreement, but Jane was pushing him too far. He squared up to Jane, coming face to face with him. "And let me guess, you would have taken better care of her? How many times did she risk her life for your sorry ass? She would have been dead three times over if she had stayed with you."

Jane flinched, "I was always there to save her."

Pike was incredulous, and he backed away slightly, gesturing wildly with his arms in his disbelief. "You _left_ her Jane. So many times." He paused and looked Jane dead in the eye, "You left her, yet still have the guts to believe you were the best guy for her. She was just lucky that I came along to save her."

"That's what you call saving her? She's dead!" Jane chocked, voice broken and his body shaking slightly. It was the first time he'd acknowledged her death aloud and he turned away from Pike, rubbing a hand over his face and pausing slightly to gather himself before turning on his heel, slamming the door behind him.

* * *

Her funeral was held on the second Thursday-eight days after her death and four days after Jane's arrival in DC. He stood beside Van Pelt and watched Lisbon's coffin be carefully lowered into her grave. It wasn't a particularly nice day; the fog hung low over the graveyard, heavy and compressing. Jane stood with his hands at his sides, head down and deep in thought. The priest continued the proceedings with his voice even and calm, conflicting with the emotions Jane felt. He had always thought it would be the other way round; that she would attend his funeral after the showdown with Red John. Being there, standing amongst those who loved her and who had come to pay their respects felt wrong. Pike was standing across from him, his expression downcast, his face crumpled with grief. Jane's eyes grew sinister as they brushed past him, but quickly returned to their lifeless emptiness. He watched Lisbon's closest family and friends step towards the grave as they were called forth to scatter a handful of earth over her, and when his time came, he stepped forwards in a daydream. The earth felt cool and dry in his sweaty palm and it slipped easily onto the coffin, pattering softly as it hit the hardened wood.

The gathering came to an end and the grave was filled in, leaving a plain solid marble stone marked with her name-Teresa Lisbon: loving fiancée, sister and friend-and Jane stood there long after everyone else had left. As he finally stepped back he began to think about other matters, unable to face the raw and complete pain of her death. He hadn't seen her body, despite several attempts to see her. The morgue owners had disallowed his entry because he had no relation to Lisbon, and he absently wondered if it was normal protocol. Whether or not it was, it was inconvenient for Jane, and her burial, of course, had ended any possibility of seeing her one last time, but he found himself moving on. Seeing her dead would break him-and he had important things to focus on now in order to fulfill her justice.

* * *

Back in Texas, Jane became a man on a mission, verging on an obsessive maniac. He went into the FBI for the first time since the news of her death came, under the pretence of keeping busy with work. In actuality, he had only one goal in mind.

There were a total of 12 different witness statements, and with nowhere else to start Jane submerged himself in reading each of them and scanning for any valuable information, despite in the past not being interested in the paperwork. He was determined to find something; he was desperately hoping for a description of the killer (which he couldn't find) or more details on the logistics of her death. He hadn't been told much by Abbott, and reading the file he learnt that Lisbon had been working with the DC FBI team to track down a suspect and she was shot in the chest after diverting into an empty parking lot.

After trawling through pages after pages of information, Jane noticed an inconsistency. Two of the witness statements listed Lisbon's shooting at different times, with one husband and wife mentioning the shooting being at 9pm and 11pm. Jane sat in his airstream for a moment, pondering on how two people living in the same home, and supposedly both there at the time of the shooting, could have heard the shots at such different times.

Jason Wiley had been a particular favourite of Jane's on the team; he was sincere, hard working and clever beyond the credit awarded to him. He was also very easily manipulated into complying with Jane's schemes however and Jane had no problems convincing him to search both of the names of the two witnesses and to come up with any information about them.

Eventually Wiley and Jane both focused on the same line of information, suddenly stopping in their tracks and staring transfixed, wondering if they had read it wrong.

This was _not_ what Jane had expected to find.


	3. Chapter 3

_Hi, sorry I've taken so long up update this, but thank you all so much for the feedback!_

 _Also thank you (again) to Emma for helping with this- she's been a huge help! :)_

* * *

Chapter Three~

 _November 2014_

Tony Amos, the husband of Esmee Amos, and the inaccurate witness (who claimed that shots were heard two hours before they actually were) was an ex gang member of "The Anarchists" and a three-time convict. He was also an expert in computer science and in 1999 he had been jailed for computer hacking related crimes, regarding the FBI's encrypted files. What held both Wiley and Jane's attention, however, was the fact that he had been convicted of falsifying data and faking the death of a fellow gang member 10 years prior. Ordinarily, this would be suspicious, but coupled with the recent $100,000 deposited into his bank and his link to Lisbon's death, it couldn't be overlooked. A man like Tony Amos was not the typical type of man to be involved in cold blooded murder, but faking a death? It was plausible.

Jane and Wiley both sat in the office, time slowing around them and possibilities darting through Jane's mind like a hare with a fox on its trail. He almost didn't dare to think it, except that he couldn't think of anything but it. What if she was alive? It was a distinct possibility, and Jane felt like he'd been punched in the stomach, like he had been winded, like he could not breath. His Lisbon alive.

Wiley shrugged his shoulders in his awkward way, stuttering slightly as he said, "Well, it can't mean anything, right?" His voice was uncertain and he looked to Jane for guidance, feeling like he had missed something and jumped to the wrong conclusion without due cause. One look at Jane's astounded but entirely hopeful facial expressions told him all he needed to know, however.

"Of course it can!" Jane breathed and stood up in a hurry, hitting print on Amos' details and gathering up all of his other papers (witness statements, death certificate and explanation, case files) off of the desk, before hurrying away.

He stayed up all throughout that night (not that he would have slept anyway), possibilities flitting through his mind and demanding his full attention. He had concocted a make-shift bulletin board, much like the one he had used to brainstorm the Red John case, and by the morning it was full of complex ideas. The board was drawn up in three quarters, and Jane had sprawled ideas on each section. On the left side were the words 'Teresa Lisbon-alive?', which were enclosed within a felt tip circle on the board, and over a dozen arrows spiralled from this; the inconsistency of the witness statement; the history Amos had in faking deaths and the idea that her body had only been identified by Pike and not permitted to be seen after (it had been a closed casket funeral, and the funeral parlour had not allowed visitors). Of course, the rational side of Jane understood that these could easily be cancelled out by opposing evidence and that it seemed too complicated; if Lisbon was still alive it meant that her body had been switched out (and kidnapped) after Pike had identified her (because as much as it pained him to admit it, he couldn't see Pike mistaking someone else for Lisbon). Jane had seen a handful of times where a death had been faked, one being the time he got the father of a wealthy family drunk and used a strategically placed golf ball to portray the illusion of no pulse; and the irrational, blindly hopeful side of Jane had convinced himself that this was one of those times. Lisbon had to-had to-still be alive.

On the second section of the board Jane had brainstormed ideas of who would want Lisbon's death faked. He had three major ideas; leftover members of the Blake Association who were after vengeance against one of the leading people involved in Red John's demise (which meant that Jane should expect to be pulled within that sooner or later), or maybe Visualise (although Jane was just pulling at strings here). He had also listed out all of the cases he and Lisbon had worked on, with characters Lisbon had sent down personally, and this list was seemingly endless. Lisbon had worked in the CBI for most of her adult life and had worked to full capacity to send down as many criminals as humanly possible.

The third section was a continuation of Lisbon's case, and was the only section that acknowledged the possibility of her death, seeing as it was the most logically sound. Jane had listed the evidence and, coupled with the consistency of Amos' witness statement, he had brainstormed possible leads for her murder.

One question Jane kept pondering was whether just because Amos had a history in faking deaths it meant that Lisbon's death had also been faked; it wasn't concrete, incriminating evidence and he was well aware that he could be heading in the completely wrong direction. The truth was, however, if she was dead after all, he couldn't handle it, so he was taking any evidence that went against her being alive as not valid.

One thing was certain though; he needed help.

Jane was the first one in the office the next morning, not having slept for the whole night. His eyes were laden with evidence of his insomnia, and his jaw was sprinkled with unshaven shadows, but over the top of his rumpled shirt and slacks his old vest had made a reappearance. He stood impatiently as everyone arrived.

The small group had arrived together; Wiley (who knew why Jane had arranged this impromptu meeting, yet still seemed uncomfortably nervous), Cho, the Rigsbys (Jane had ordered Grace and Wayne to come also- he needed the old team back together as much as possible), and of course, Abbott. Each wore slightly alarmed expressions at his jittery manner, but they all sat down without a fuss, waiting for Jane to explain.

And explain he did. He talked of Tony Amos and his expertise in faking deaths, as well as the suspicious amount of money deposited in his bank, as well as his vague suspicions about the inconsistency of the evidence surrounding Lisbon's 'death'. He was well aware that he was speaking too quickly, that as he tried to write some of his points down on the whiteboard he had accidentally thrown the pen down vigorously, that for once all of his skills at regulating his body had failed; his heart was racing uncontrollably, he was covering in a thin sheen of sweat. He _knew_ all of these things but he didn't care because once _they too knew_ _that_ _Lisbon was alive..._ Well they would understand. Wayne, Grace and Cho would understand at least, because they knew Lisbon and loved her, almost as much as he did. Instead of understanding, however, Jane was met with the opposite. Rigsby was avoiding Jane's stare, Wiley looked as astonished as he had the previous evening when they had first uncovered Tony Amos and Cho looked as stoic as ever. However, for once it was Grace whose face was unreadable, deep in thought. Jane didn't have time to think this over (he would never have thought Grace could hide her emotions from him) because Abbott spoke.

"Jane, where are you gong with this?" Abbott asked gruffly, leaning forward on his elbows.

Jane's point finally cumulated to his epiphany; "Abbott, she's alive. Lisbon is alive!" His voice was hoarse, but carried throughout the mostly empty room, eliciting a few stares from nearby workers. Jane lowered his voice to a hush. "It's the only explanation; why else would there be such drastic inconsistences with the witnesses? How else could Amos be involved? Lisbon must be-"

"It seems like you're hinging a lot of this on nothing, Jane." Abbott stood and rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. "Look, we are all grieving, and it's going to take some time before anything resembles 'okay' again. But you don't wanna go down that path. It will drive you crazy." He turned to the rest of the team and spoke with an air of commandment. "I don't want you guys entertaining this fantasy. Wiley- get back on the O'Brien case and Cho, go chase up the suspect with Agent Vega. I want this case wrapped up today."

Jane slammed his hand down on his desk, uncharacteristically furious. Wiley was the first to speak for a change, hurrying to his feet and stepping the three paces over to Jane's desk. "Jane, I can run up Tony Amos through the database again, pick up his address." His voice was hushed but desperate. "We can head to his house and question him, under the FBI's radar."

"We can't let him know yet. We need to do this quietly." Jane replied, calming a little as Grace, Rigsby, Cho and Wiley stood up and nodded slightly at his words.

"Grace could check out the death report though, and the report log on the call out to that parking lot" Cho spoke quickly.

"Actually," Grace stepped forwards and the small group all focused their attention on her. She spoke with importance, and they all clung on to her words. "I already did. Jane, I think you're on to something,"


End file.
